


Aftermath

by blueberryfallout



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Casual Fluff Fic, Dante's Complete Lack Of Personal Boundaries, Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9843050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberryfallout/pseuds/blueberryfallout
Summary: lmao it's your girl who watched all the gameplay for dmc without actually playing it but damn that game was beautiful!!! a little over the top with how cool the characters were but whatevs, if i can handle the XTREME 90s comics i can handle that level of tryhard cool as well :) anyway this was a fun little thing for me to write, i kinda just dipped into this fandom then dipped back out cause i'm not much of a gamer. enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> lmao it's your girl who watched all the gameplay for dmc without actually playing it but damn that game was beautiful!!! a little over the top with how cool the characters were but whatevs, if i can handle the XTREME 90s comics i can handle that level of tryhard cool as well :) anyway this was a fun little thing for me to write, i kinda just dipped into this fandom then dipped back out cause i'm not much of a gamer. enjoy!

Dante’s been sitting for five minutes, catching his breath, when Kat taps his arm. It’s now that he notices she has tattoos on her fingers, thin lines of flowers spiraling. “Are those permanent?” he asks, taking one of her hands in his, grinning when she lets him. 

“It’s henna,” she answers, scratching her nails lightly down his palm, shifting uncomfortably in her cast. Already he’s healed from his fight with Vergil, only a thin scrape closing along his cheekbone. When he smiles, she wonders if she’ll ever get used to the beauty of it. “It’ll be gone in a few days.” 

“And this?” he asks, tapping gently at the mark on her forehead, leaning a bit too close like always, making every moment personal. Dante must be very aware of his strength, because he’s nothing but gentle with her, whereas Vergil sometimes left bruises, not meaning to.

“That one’s real.” She shifts again, lifting her cast before letting it fall with a sigh, feeling every single pain. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, brow furrowing. 

“I don’t heal like you do, Dante,” she points out, fond. She’s said the same thing to Vergil a thousand times, and the thought of his betrayal hits like one of Mundus’ beatings. 

“We should get you home then,” he says, not noticing the frown touching her lips. “Do you…um. Have a home?”

Watching him try for delicacy is funny enough that she pushes the thought of Vergil away, smiling. “Where did you think I slept?” He shrugs, getting to his feet, helping her up. “My apartment’s just a couple blocks from here, actually. C’mon.” There’s a few stray demons lingering as they make the trek back, Dante dispatching them without effort. When they get to her apartment, Dante examines the grate over the front door as she pats her pockets, frustrated. “Shit! I must’ve lost my keys when Mundus took me,” she mutters, glancing up when Dante huffs a laugh. 

“I got this.” He reaches forward, grasping the bars covering her door and easily lifting it aside, folding it into pieces. Kat sucks in a breath; sometimes she forgets how strong the Nephilim are. “There. All set.” He flashes her a cocky grin and holds the door as she steps inside, figuring that Dante can fight off any intruder who tries to get in.  
They make the trek up the stairs to her room in silence, Dante’s various weapons clanking, until she can let him in. She knows her room’s nothing special, just one bedroom, a bathroom, a living room with a shitty broken couch and a tiny excuse for a kitchen, but it’s home. No demon foster fathers here, no shitty roommate like she had her first free year. Dante’s already thrown himself on the couch, groaning, stretching his long body out. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” Kat can feel the exhaustion like a physical weight, slumping her shoulders. She realizes she hasn’t slept in over 48 hours, not since this whole thing started, since Dante showed up. Saving the world was too important. She feels kind of dizzy and out of it, to the point where, if it still existed, she’d probably be floating in and out of Limbo. 

Instead, she sways in place, taking her soiled hoodie off and tossing it aside, sensing Dante’s eyes on her. “What’re you doing?” 

“Some of us need to sleep,” she teases, hearing him snort a laugh. 

“Believe it or not, babe, but Nephilim sleep, too.”

Her response is interrupted by a jaw cracking yawn, another wave of exhaustion. “M’going to bed,” she mumbles, stumbling over to where her bed is tucked away in the closet sized bedroom, sheets unmade, and falling face forward on to it. 

“Want company?” Dante asks; she’s not sure whether he’s sincere or not, and doesn’t bother with an answer.   
*  
*  
*  
Kat grew up with Limbo as a playground, with the occasional not-completely-evil demon as companions, and then worked for a man who betrayed her. She should be used to weird things. Waking up from a fifteen hour sleep to a Nephilim making eggs in her kitchen is still something it may take a while to get used to.

Dante’s shirtless; she examines the strong muscles in his back, the dimples just over his ass, kind of annoyed. It’s _rude_ to be this beautiful, to make something low in Kat’s stomach clench every time she looks at him. Does he even notice? He seems to view his looks like he does everything else; inconsequential, useful for getting him laid but nothing special.

He turns, smiling, looking like he just had a spa day or something. Meanwhile, Kat did ten rounds of torture with a head demon and feels it, wincing as she steps closer. “Morning.” 

“More like afternoon,” he points out, flipping his omelet over, adding cheese. “Want some?” There’s something flirtatious in his tone when he promises, “It’s delicious.” 

Kat’s so hungry that she doesn’t bother blushing, reaches past him for the omelet already made. Her arm brushes his hip and he’s warm, overly so, a fever running under his skin. Strange. Vergil was always cold. “Are you okay?” 

He raises a curious eyebrow, glancing down at his unmarked skin. “I think so?” 

“You’re just…really hot.” 

Too late she realizes her mistake, as amusement spreads over his face. “Yeah? You think so?” 

“I just. Um. I just meant that your skin is hot!” she stammers, saved by him having to take his omelet off the pan, grabbing a plate. 

“It’s always been like that,” he dismisses, brandishing his fork. “Wasn’t Vergil the same way?” 

Kat goes silent, her stomach twisting up all over again. She doesn’t want to think that Vergil, who _saved_ her, who fought monsters with her, never really cared at all and she _still_ saved his life. Or, maybe she saved Dante from becoming something awful, she considers, remembering the veins sprouting along his skin. “No. He wasn’t.” 

There’s an awkward beat before he tries, “Um. Sorry. I know he mattered to you, too.” How can Kat explain that Vergil saved her from hell, that she loved him like a brother, and it turned out he saw her and everyone like her as cattle, useful tools at best.

Dante is shifting uncomfortably, probably unused to apologizing, so Kat says, “It’s fine,” with very little expression. She knows she’s serious, whether by nature or nurture, and some people find it offsetting, but she’s never known how to be anything other than what she is. 

Finished with the omelet, she sets her plate in the sink, turning around with her arms folded and watching Dante’s eyes drop to her cleavage then resettle, guilty, on her face. Another emotion he’s probably unfamiliar with: shame. Dante seems to do all sorts of things for her that he won’t do for other people, and the thought causes something warm and excited to unfold in her chest. No one’s ever gone out of their way to do anything special for her before, certainly didn’t risk their lives. 

“So, what do we do now?” 

Limbo is gone, Mundus is gone, and Vergil has disappeared. It’s been years since Kat was without purpose. “You fight demons,” she says. “I…stay here?” 

Brow furrowing, Dante reaches over, his hand curving around her bare shoulder, letting her feel the calluses on his palms. “You don’t want to come with me?” Kat has a feeling that, before all this, Dante wouldn’t bother asking, that he’d just assume she’d want to come with. All this has made him older in just a few days, both of them aged beyond their years.

Kat has always felt old, but now she feels ancient, swaying into Dante’s space as his hand drops from her shoulder to her waist, just below the cast. Her heartbeat’s climbing, Dante’s eyes falling on her pulse fluttering in her throat. “I. Yes. Of course I do.” She’s never been surer of anything in her life.

All the cockiness is back in Dante’s face as he tilts his head, grinning, then pecks her once on the cheek. “Great. I’ll pack my stuff.” He squeezes her hip once and slips past her as Kat puts a hand to the cheek he kissed, feeling her skin flush and burn, smiling her own smile. Maybe this new world won’t be so bad after all.


End file.
